When he’s sober, he’s best of all.
Then he drinks the alcohol.
It doesn’t matter what the form,
Tequila with, without the worm.
Iced in glasses or foam on top,
Once he starts he’ll never stop.
Then it’s like he hits a wall,
His eyes will close and then he’ll fall.
I’d try to help him if I could,
He should let me. Think he would?
There’s a really descent man inside
That drink has taken for a ride.
P. S.- Don’t worry! Just a poem!